


Miles to go

by MuzaiYuuzai



Series: Restless [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuzaiYuuzai/pseuds/MuzaiYuuzai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Direct Prequel to Before Sleep.  Miles C Lancaster's aforementioned one night stand, his sister's wedding and everything inbetween. Trent/Miles remember kids adult themes tread carefully</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles to go

Ice in the tinted glass of homemade tea shifted as he moved, squirming cross-legged on the wooden porch. Miles stared at the condensation slick glass like it held the secrets of the universe in its cool depths. It was so much more interesting than the glinting Camaro in the sun, or the teen buried under its hood. At least that’s what Miles was trying to convince himself of, but it wasn’t working very well. Sam was clad in old jeans and nothing else. The fabric clung to his hips in ways Miles had never even imagined. Sam Witwicky leaned forward, he strained to finish his work and hear his best friend.

“She's what?” Sam asked distractedly rubbing a smear of grease over his forehead.

“Getting married,” the blond replied for what he was sure was the fiftieth time, taking a sip from his glass.

“Seriously?” Sam’s voice echoed beneath the hood.

“Yes.” Miles grumbled, taking another drink and getting a mouth full of ice. He sputtered around a cube of frozen water, screwing up his cherubic features as tried to chew it into submission.

“Syd's getting married?” came the query from under the golden hood as the younger teen moved again.

“No, Lisa is.” Miles corrected, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and setting the cup down. He stretched out, lying across the porch pillowing his head against his outstretched arm. “Syd? Getting married? You must be joking.”

Laughing to himself, Sam turned to peer at his friend nodding sagely. “Yeah I am.”

“Thank god.” Muttered Miles blowing hair from his face.

Satisfied with the exclamation Sam turned back to the brand new unreleased Camaro in his driveway, the so dubbed freakishly awesome car by his present companion.

As he fell silent, his horizontal friend spoke up vying for his once again divided attention.

“So Lisa's getting married.” Miles began again.

“Again?” was Witwicky’s incredibly lame answer.

Shaking his head, Miles rolled on to his stomach, wiping dirt from his face. “Last time she only had a civil ceremony in Vegas. Lisa, the perfect one…Vegas! She goes all that way and has a civil ceremony…Mom still hasn't forgiven her and it's been months…”

“Uhuh,” Sam replied distractedly. His longtime friend continued unphased in the least.

“This time she's doing it right; so Syd, Casey and I are stuck in the ceremony.”

Leaning forward Sam shifted his stance; the slight movement was enough to draw the attention of the speaker who paused, mid-sentence, to watch Witwicky’s jeans sliding further down his hips. Blue eyes flickered to the wriggling rear as if entranced. It wasn't very often he gave into his urges and lusted after his friend, but now was one of those instances. Staring at the dual colored pants, his eyes roved higher following the curve of Sam's spine as he looked over the pristine engine.

Sucking in a breath, Miles managed to tear his eyes away from his best friend's ass. It just wasn't appropriate to be mooning after your best friend, especially if he didn't even know you were gay. Choking on the half-melted ice cube, Miles sputtered briefly, swiping the back of his hand across his face.

“So what's your point?” Sam finally looked away from the car.

Rolling over on the warm planks again Miles looked up into the smiling face of his best friend.  
“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me….as a date?”

Mulling the idea briefly, Samuel swiped the last remains of grease from his hands before offering it to his buddy

“Sure…” he said smiling.

Grinning goofily in return, Miles seized the warm hand in his own.

“Cool.”

***

  
Four thirty on Friday evening Sam arrived at the White Crest Chapel. He was struggling with one of his father's ties as he slid from the vehicle. Perched on the ancient steps Miles waved frantically.

Sam was surprised to see him looking somewhat respectable, his long hair forced into a ponytail. The black suit he wore fit him rather well; the purple of his tie was a nice contrast to the blue of his eyes.

Miles jumped down as Sam approached, a grin spreading across his features. Batting Sam's hands from his tie, Miles caught the fabric and twisted it into a neat knot. Admiring his quick handiwork, he smiled before heading to the door.

Sam's brief pause earned an exasperated sigh as Miles dashed back. “Hurry up,” he ordered, catching Sam’s arm.

Stumbling along, Sam managed a smile and casual “nice tux” as the blond practically dragged him through the huge antique doors. Plunging into the dim interior of the great church, Sam blinked to readjust his eyes to the soft multicolored light filtering down from the immense windows. The heavy smell of flowers and candles mixed in a heady mixture that made him dizzy.

“Whoa.” Sam breathed and his voice echoed in the cavernous space.

"Yeah." Miles answered. He wasn't exactly paying attention to Sam, instead he was trying to get another good look at Sam's attire. He wore a soft grey tuxedo accented with a blue tie and even lighter blue shirt. Miles grinned at him, a faint blush crossing his features.

“You look good too,” He admitted a little hoarsely.

“Thanks.” Sam grinned, rather pleased with overall effect. His mother had spent forever forcing him to try on suits. It was well worth the effort, even Mikaela had liked it. She had declined going herself preferring to spend the evening in the company of his parents, a fact which both worried and pleased the teen, but he didn’t have time to consider it as the hallway was suddenly filled with noise.

“Sammy!” a sudden cry echoed loudly in the hall and before the sound had faded, the teen had his arms full of a precocious eight year old.

“Hi Casey.” he replied softly as the raven haired girl leaned up to plaster a sticky sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Hi!” She chirped as he set her down. The child was swathed in bright lavender ruffles and a matching bow. Her locks had been curled for the occasion, a fact she loathed, because the loose strands tickled her face and neck.

“You look adorable.” Sam announced earning a smile.

“Thanks, but it itches like a bitch.” she grumbled, tugging at the skirt.

“Language.” Miles chided patting her head.

“When’s the wedding?” Sam asked.

“Soon...” a voice echoed from the pews. Sam almost jumped; he hadn’t realized anyone else was there. Not that far from the trio, Sydney Lancaster was draped across a bench with an inconspicuous flask clutched between her fingers.

Sitting up she graced them, well Sam, with a smirk. She was dressed in the same purple flounces as her little sister, but the dress was a little more mature on her figure. The lilac fabric swept over her breasts and practically clung to her hips. Her usual choker was missing and her hair was styled in a neat bun combined with an updo, several tendrils of auburn tresses hung down, framing her rouged cheeks. She, just like her little sister, wasn’t too thrilled with the sudden makeover.

“Glad to see Miles convinced you to come,” she said before taking a draught from the container.

“Er, yeah.” Sam replied carefully.

Poking his friend conspiratorially Miles rolled his eyes at the half bored woman. “Don't mind her, Sydney hates weddings.” he confided.

“Syd hates everything,” Casey clarified pushing her curls out of her eyes.

Snorting rudely, Syd flipped her siblings off before turning back to take another swallow of the unidentifiable liquid.

“Sure you don't want some?” she asked after her latest swig, shaking the flask in their direction.

Before either teen could reply, Casey latched onto their fingers and began dragging them further into the building. “C'mon, let's go see Lisa!”

“Wasn't her hair green?” Sam queried as the shortest family member hauled on their arms.

Letting his rambunctious little sister lead, Miles answered in the affirmative. When it wasn’t enough, he launched into a decent explanation. “Mom refused to let her come to the wedding unless she dyed it back. Personally, I didn't see the problem.”

“She would have looked like a seasick hippo.” Casey insisted, finally stopping. Releasing her captives, she stepped up to the door and banged.

“Who is it?” A soft feminine voice asked from the other side.

“Your brothers and sister.” Miles announced. “Can we come in?”

“Brothers?” the voice wondered aloud before Casey got impatient and pushed the door open. In the anteroom, Lisa Lancaster-Williams sat in voluminous arrangement of sparkly white tulle and satin. Her veil cascaded down her hair and over her shoulders.

“Ohhhh,” Casey murmured taking the beautiful sight of her elder sister. “Pretty!”

With her back to the door, Lisa couldn't see them. Miles stepped forward, leaning over to place a kiss on her check.

“Hello Milton.” she greeted patting his cheek.

“Hey Sis.” he replied, hugging her close.

“What did you mean about brothers?”

“Did you forget about me?” Sam pouted, finally stepping into her line of sight

“Oh, Samuel!” she breathed, “It's been too long, come here.”

As she rose to hug him, Sam noticed that most of the size wasn't due to her choice of gown. The layered tiers of her skirt did little to hide the burgeoning swell of her lower abdomen.

“You're pregnant?” Sam asked reaching out to touch but stopping just shy of touching her voluminous dress.

“Miles didn't tell you?” Lisa asked catching Sam's hand and placing it upon her belly.

“So it slipped my mind?” Miles replied helplessly.

“Silly boy,” Lisa teased, as Sam pressed his hand against the curve of her stomach. However Miles' words had irked him.

“How could that slip your mind?” Sam demanded incredulously, glancing from brother to sister.

“The same way you forgot to give me a ride home...” his friend groused.

“I apologized!” Sam said rounding on Miles, miracle of life suddenly forgotten

“I had to walk!”

“Here we go,” Casey muttered and went to rifle in her sister's makeup bag.

Before the boy's row could get any louder, Lisa intervened. Grabbing each teen's ear, she twisted them until she had their complete and total attention. Once the flailing stopped she began, “Shush! You two are not going to fight on my wedding day.”

“Second,” Miles clarified before she gave his lobe another tug. “Ow,”

“He started it.” Sam supplied helplessly, trapped under the eldest sibling’s firm grip.

“I did not!” Miles snipped back, crossing his arms.

Another tug ensured Lisa once again had their complete attention. “It doesn't matter. You’re best friends, now make up,” she ordered firmly, despite the sweet smile on her face.

Both boys seemed determined to resist all attempts to ease tensions.

“Now,” Lisa demanded tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.

“Sorry Miles,” Sam muttered finally.

“Apology accepted, friends?” Miles whispered rubbing his ear.

“Usually, though I'm not sure why...” Sam replied mirroring the gesture.

“I love family bonding...” Lisa announced releasing them both.

“I really hate to break up the love fest.” Sydney's smug voice floated over from the door. “-but we're on, kids.”

“Oh!” the bride squealed. Sparing Syd, Miles and even Sam a kiss, Lisa gathered up her dress. Sam helped her maneuver as she moved towards the door.

“All set.” Miles insisted adjusted her veil and she beamed.

“Wish me luck!” she whispered, looking towards her baby sister.

“Good luck.” Casey shouted her face covered in a masque of bright smeared crimson lipstick.

“Oh good heavens, Casey, what did you do?” the bride exclaimed, eyes wide.

“You looked so pretty, I wanted to be pretty too.” the painted girl replied. Then she rounded on the males present. “Aren't I pretty?”

“Gorgeous,” Sam answered, sounding unconvinced.

“You look terrible,” Syd grumbled along with her brother.

Casey pouted, brows furrowing at the comment quite ready to cry.

“Sam, grab the wet wipes out of my bag.” Lisa ordered, marching towards her the red streaked child.

“No! Not you. You can't risk getting that stuff on your dress.” Miles cried, rubbing his temples. “Syd go stall.”

“What?” she demanded in response, putting her hand on her hips, “Why me?”

Miles was stalled from answering by the appearance of their mother in the doorway.

“Children!” Mrs. Lancaster shouted peering into the room, “Hurry up or we’ll be…Oh dear heavens what happened to Casey?” She stepped into the room and took the hand wipes from Sam.

“I’m pretty?” the girl inquired softly fighting back a pout. He mother laid a careful hand on Casey’s shoulder and turned back to her older children.

“You!-” the elder woman hissed, voice like hot metal plunged into water, “How could you let this happen?”

“Sorry Mom,” the entire room chorused, even Sam. Each individual had a piece to add to the explanation, but Valeska wasn’t hearing it.

Valeska Lancaster was young or at least she looked it. Her hair was still wild and vibrant as her daughters. She was almost waifish thin, but it suited her. With her bright eyes and soft face, there was no doubt which parent Miles and his sisters took after.

“You look just fine without the makeup sweetie.” she soothed patting the head of her youngest child.

“Really?” The threat of tears vanished under the compliment.

“Really. Now come here,” Valeska turned towards her other children. “This'll take a minute. Sydney, go stall.”

“Why me?” the young woman asked again, hands firmly planted on her hips.

“Because you're good at it, now hurry up.”

“Fine.” she sighed as if pained. “C'mon Miles. If I'm going, so are you.”

Chuckling softly under his breath Sam, followed the pair with a single glance at the red faced child.

***

  
The pews were full when the three appeared in the doorway. Instead of circling the rows, Syd plowed straight down the aisle at a breakneck pace. Sighing, Miles followed, sheepishly waving to his relatives, packed into the seats. Sam quickly and quietly slipped into a pew on the bride’s side and sank down into an empty spot, where he could easily watch the proceedings.

At the end of the aisle the groom seemed surprised at the turn of events.

“Hey Brian.” Syd greeted, “Minor mishap, it’ll take a bit to sort out.”

“Mishap?” Brian turned pale and Syd laughed in his face.

“No, not Lisa you dolt, she loves you,” the woman rolled her eyes. “Our flower girl is covered in  
lipstick at the moment.”

“Oh good. Well…I know what you mean. Our ring bearer is having a similar issue.”

Miles scanned the crowd and spotted the mother of the groom working industriously to clean the face of Joshua, Brian's little brother. Laughing he clapped a hand on his brother-in-law' shoulder. “You are gonna fit into this family just fine.”

Turning away he spent a few moments searching the front of the church for a mike. Once it was located he turned back to the crowd grinning as he flicked it on.  
“Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, as you can see we're having a slight delay,” He announced brightly, before the device made a horrible screeching sound over the church's audio system, ignoring it he continued cheerfully gesturing at his less than pleased elder sibling. “In the meantime, we have a selection from the bride's sister, Ms. Sydney Lancaster.” He caught sight of Sam in the crowd and winked, before passing the microphone to his sister.

“I'm gonna kill you.” she vowed before she raised the mike to her lips.

“Hey little sister what have you done.”

Ignoring the looks of horror from her family the former green haired siren stepped forward, singing brightly as the assembled audience watched. Groaning, Miles slapped a hand over his face as Syd came to the first chorus, and moved back to her brother-in-law-to-be's side.

“It's a nice day for a white wedding. It’s a nice day to start again.”

Milton smiled a bit too widely as he snatched the microphone from her hands and tried for damage control. “Thank you Sydney-”

Snatching it back, she flashed a grin. “Hang on I got another one.”

Unwilling to let her continue, her brother pulled the microphone away. A brief struggle ensued over the microphone, but Syd stomped on his foot and claimed victory with a smile. This time however the song wasn’t nearly as off putting as the first.

“Nibbling on sponge cake…Watching the sun bake...C'mon Miles you know the words!”

She jerked the microphone over in his direction. Realizing it was better to go with it than to have a mass melee before the ceremony, Miles acquiesced to the sudden demand.

“All the tourists covered with oil.”

The impromptu duet garnished mixed reactions from the crowd. The Williams brood looked horrified, as the song continued. Brian looked as if he was torn between laughing and crying. Quickly Sydney thrust the microphone under his nose. Surprised he quickly lent another voice to the musical styling’s of the Lancaster duo. Miles could see that the bride's side were used to such antics and didn't seem fazed. The matron of the Simmons clan rocked back and forth with a smile, mouthing the words as her grandchildren sang.

Down the aisle glided an adorable vision in purple. Casey with a freshly scrubbed face and her flower basket in tow hurried up to her siblings. On her way she tossed flowers pel mel into the audience. She deposited the empty basket on the lap of her uncle and then bounced up to the podium. Standing as tall as she could manage she joined in her family just in time for the chorus.

“Wastin' away again in Margaretville.”

Pointing to the back of the church the main songstress gestured to the remainder of the bridesmaids.

“C'mon Jen, your partner's up here!” winking at Brian, Sydney continued, “And bring Joshua with you.”

Meekly, the older woman, Lisa's best friend, shuffled down the aisle, the ring bearer in tow.  
As she reached them, Brian immediately scooped up his brother and rocked to the beat careful not to dislodge the rings tied to the pillow. Jennifer on the other hand, smiled like a deer in headlights as she leaned towards Sydney hissing softly. “I don't do karaoke.”

Waving her off Syd passed the mike back to her brother and draped an arm over the woman's shoulder.

“Now's the perfect time to start.”

As the song crescendoed the wedding party leaned together belting out the Parrothead's anthem.

“-there's a woman to blame!”

As if on cue, Lisa came marching down the aisle with beautiful smile across her face and tears in her eyes. “Oh Syd, you remembered,” she exclaimed before moving at a less than sedate pace despite her condition to take the hand of her husband and join in the impromptu choir all the same.

Brian pulled her into his arms while Milton seized the giggling flower girl as everyone else decided to sing.

“And I know it’s my own damn fault.”

Once the applause died down and the remainder of the wedding party quickly shuffled to their proper places, the shutter clicks started up and the minister, a longtime friend of Brian's father began the ceremony.

Sometime into the “do you and do you,” Casey tugged on her brother's leg. “I'm bored....” she mouthed before shoving the obnoxious curls out of her face.

“Wait.” Miles ordered placing a hand on her shoulder, “It's almost over.”

They suffered through the vows of fidelity, loyalty and happiness. Cameras occasionally snapped as the couple gazed into each other’s eyes, oblivious to the world around them. Miles couldn’t get away with sneaking glances at Sam, too many members of his extended family were staring up at the front of the church and incidentally him. Casey yawn and Miles resisted the urge to mimic her. The effort to fight it made his nose itchy. The same reason that kept him from gazing adoringly at Sam stilled him from scratching the offending body part.

“If anyone has any objections to this union speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Miles sneezed and the noise echoed. The ancient priest and the assembled guests turned towards him in various states of shock.

“You have something to say?” The minister asked looking from the couple to Miles.

Just as surprised as everyone else was, Milton Lancaster stared at him before stuttering a reply, blushing as red as his sister's lipstick.

“Me? Oh No I just… allergies. So sorry, please continue.”

Beside Joshua, the dark haired flower girl bounced up on her toes waving her arms for attention.

“Oh Me! Me! I have something to say!” Casey chirped eager to add her two cents.

“Nuhu Cas, now's not the best time...” Syd whispered, patting her sister's shoulder.

“But he said...”

“That's only if anyone objects to the wedding.”

“But I have something to say...” Casey insisted stamping for emphasis.

“Save it for the toast honey.” Miles insisted.

“We get toast?” When no one corrected her assumption the young girl nodded to herself and turned back to the priest. “Statement retracted….”

The church was filled with smiles as the man began again, speaking emphatically about love and family and joining. As he spoke the youngest Lancaster’s found it impossible to resist giggling, especially as he spoke the word Marriage.

Facing her husband for the second time before a man of the cloth, Lisa found herself grinning broadly. With her hands in his, Brian smiled back, unable to contain the joy of being wed once more to the love of his life, a woman who was soon going to be the mother of his child. Nothing could ruin such a perfect day.

Nothing.

Or so she thought.

The odd look crossing Lisa's face however told another story. Leaning closer to her bridegroom the brunette managed to smile as she hissed out the next words.

“I think I'm going into labor.”

Thankfully the voluminous layers of tulle hid the trickle of telltale fluid down her legs. Pulling back she smiled again and mouthed the words 'Kiss me' to her husband. Brian's eyes grew wide and he acquiesced to her request.

Watching the frantic smile on her sister's face, Syd pulled a cell phone out of her clutch and phoned emergency.

“Lisa, the ambulance will be arriving shortly. Why don't you and the hubby go outside?” Syd advised snapping her cell shut. Turning to her siblings she began shouting orders.

“Casey follow me, Miles distract the party, and we’ll take care of Lisa.” With that, the woman followed the pair down the aisle at a quick march, younger sister in tow.

“Uh sure.”

Swiping the mike from the stand, Miles descended from the podium; with a weak smile his hands shaking as he tapped the mike. “So yeah....The newlyweds have decided to make their exit a little early, honeymooners am I right? But you don't have to. Please stay enjoy the reception, and try the veal.”

Tossing the microphone to the priest, Miles took off down the aisle, with an apologetic wave in Sam's direction as he bolted for the parking lot.

Slipping through the reception hall, Miles grabbed a flute of champagne from the glass pyramid. Chugging the contents, he replaced the glass and rushed out. Their parents met them in the lot. Lisa tore off her veil and passed it to her brother. Syd dove into a trunk for the premade hospital case. Handing it to Brian she smiled. As an afterthought, she shoved her flask into his hand.

“Here, you’ll need it.”

As he nodded dumbly, she passed a spare to her brother. Miles took a long swing and frowned at the taste.

As promised, the ambulance arrived rather quickly and the couple piled in. Casey climbed in behind them declaring the EMTs should run the lights. She seemed rather excited at the prospect.

Digging into his vest, Brian caught his wife’s hand, and slid a ring onto her finger. "I love you,” he whispered and the medic hauled the door shut.

The rest of the assembled guests stood silent as the peal of sirens echoed across the street and the ambulance sped away. A woman who was rather spry despite her age smiled at Sam. Gripping his shoulder with a bony hand, she demanded sweetly. “Just how do you know my grandson?”

  
***

Dragging his elder sister, Miles dashed for his car as his parents did the same. His baby started up in record time and roared after the speeding ambulance heedless of the fact neither he nor Sydney wore their seat belts. Trailing after the red and white blur of a vehicle, the blond made it to the hospital in what he claimed was good time. The police however, were not so inclined to agree with him.

In the stark halls of Tranquility General Hospital, the next few hours were a blur of white tiles and sterile air. The Lancaster family was spread about the building, each at their appointed task. Valeska was with the mother to be, while her ex-husband Walter hustled Brian down to the coffee shop for a calming cup of tea. At about seven forty-five pm, Miles was hunched in front of the vending machine trying to get a soda. He was shaking badly as he retrieved his drink, desperately worried about his sister. Sipping on the Mountain Dew, he dug out his phone and left a message for Sam.

The apology was half hearted to his own ears so he hung up, staring at the id screen in disgust. It was then Casey appeared; bored and dripping, she shoved her hand into his suit pocket grabbing for his keys. His look of confusion vanished as she drew out the ring and waved the flashlight at him, turning about she dropped down in front of the vending machine and searching for lost pocket change. He almost wanted to ask why she was dripping but thought better of it.

Shaking his head, Miles began to walk away, not watching as Casey’s once pristine gown wetly swiped dirt up from the floor as she practically crawled under the drink dispenser. She didn’t have anything to worry about. She hadn’t heard the horror stories from the Simmons matriarch. He unfortunately had, in gruesome detail, at least twice. Dear lord, if he ever heard the words ‘spinal tap’ again-

In that instant, the teen’s trail of thought was horribly derailed as he slammed into something, or rather someone. The impact left him on his butt. staring up at the fluorescent panels in the ceiling. His uncapped bottle flew from his fingers at the instant of the collision, spraying Mountain Dew every which way. Wiping the sticky liquid from his face, he pushed up from the floor to inspect the damage and make heartfelt apologies. Stammering and blushing, he looked to meet the scornful gaze of his unwitting casualty.

“Do you ever watch where you’re going?”

“Trent?”

Dressed simply in jeans, a black jacket and more recently a dose of mountain dew, the tight end of the Tranquility High football team didn’t look any more imposing than a surprised cat. Miles tried to hide his amusement but that didn’t stop Trent from glowering at him. Miles, to his credit, didn’t laugh as the spilled liquid dribbled from the teen’s chin.

“What are the odds of running into you in a hospital in the middle of the night?”

“Interesting question, but that’s not the point.” The jock snapped back, flicking soda from his jacket.

“Right, sorry about that.” Miles apologized, freeing his hair from its band to shake off some of the soda he’d accumulated.

Rolling his eyes, DeMarco leaned forward seizing the lavender tie still draped about the short blond’s neck. As he hauled it forward Miles squawked in indignation. Much the consternation of its owner, he used the free end to mop the remaining green liquid from his face. “You’re forgiven.”

“Dude dry clean!” Miles snapped and tugged the sopping accessory.. The tie slipped from Trent’s hand and Miles spun on his heel and walked away.

Using the last spot of dry fabric to swab his brow he moved further down the hall, already beginning to push the unusual encounter from his mind. Fate, unfortunately, had other plans.

“You missed a spot.”

Miles was so surprised at Trent’s return he almost collided with an orderly. The hulking man caught him mid-stride and moved him out of the way. Trent laughed quietly as Miles stammered apologies, wringing his wet tie between his fingers.

“Are you always this clumsy?”

“Why are you here?”

“Stress fracture,” DeMarco held up his arm, the pale swath of skin from wrist to elbow illustrated his words. “You?”

Ignoring the query, Miles dug out his sister’s flask, and took a long drink. It burned something awful and he smothered a cough. This was not what he wanted to deal with, not on the day his oldest sister got married and had her baby. Jerks from school were supposed to stay at school and not plague special occasions. Stopping short in the hall, Miles turned again, moving back from whence he came. His sister was still huddled under the vending machine and he was the one watching her. Not that Casey couldn’t handle herself, it was just better if she didn’t; at least that’s what the therapist had claimed.

“Not feeling chatty?”

Peering at DeMarco as he marched along Miles frowned. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

“Not right now.” Trent replied, slipping his uninjured arm into his pocket.

Stopping short, Miles decided he’d had enough. “Just fuck off, DeMarco,” he snapped pushing back his sticky hair.

“Sorry. I'm not in the mood.”

“What?” The confusion on his face was nearly comical, but no one was laughing.

“We're in a hospital...unless that’s the kind of thing that gets you off.”

Turning an interesting shade of pink Miles drew himself up to his full height, which really wasn’t impressive and scowled at Trent. “Look I don't need this right now,” he hissed waving an arm dramatically towards the maternity ward. “-So why don’t you just do both of us a favor and leave me alone?” Miles was yelling by this point, the teen had attracted a bevy of disapproving looks and a highly irritated nurse.

Catching the sleeve of his tux, Trent DeMarco dragged Miles around the corner, away from the people and more importantly away from maternity waiting room. Releasing his arm, the star of the football team turned on Miles, leaning close as he answered the most pressing question.

“Did it ever occur to you, that I might just be wondering why you're pacing the halls of a hospital, panicking?” He was glaring down the end of his nose at Miles.

Rather mortified Miles had nothing to say, well almost. “Not really, no.” he stammered.

They had reached an impasse and the pair fell silent. Miles cast a furtive glance around but nothing happened. No angry nurses appeared, so they assumed it was safe to continue their discussion. Turning back to look at his companion, Trent arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

Wringing his hands Miles couldn’t help but reply. “My sister is having a baby.”

“You know that sort of thing happens all the time, right?” Trent looked far from impressed at the admission.

When the shorter blond glared back, the jock tried another tactic. “Women were made to have kids; that’s what mothers are for.”

“But she's not like Mom. Unlike everyone else, Lisa's not what you would consider tough.” Miles muttered sparing a glance at the door. He was rocking on his heels, hair flopping over his face as he spoke.

Pressing a hand to his shoulder, Trent shook him gently. “Then it just will take longer, she’ll be fine.”

Miles stopped at once, head dropping as he sucked in a breath “Grandma almost lost both her kids.”

“Almost isn't is, you know, well it doesn’t count.” Trent countered.

Peering up from the curtain of his blond locks, the teen stared at his classmate. “Why do you care?”

Shrugging, Trent stepped back, peering down the hall. “Don't know.”

“Then don't bother.” Miles snapped, his head dropping back down to his chest.

Glancing back to the hunched form, the jock posed a poignant question. “You always get mad at people who try to help?”

Jerking up, the suited Lancaster nearly conked his head on a nearby plant. “Since when have you ever tried to help me? You’ve done nothing but make my life miserable from the moment we met.” He stopped forward jabbing his finger into Trent’s chest for emphasis.

Trent didn’t refute the accusation, he only elaborated on his uncharacteristic actions. “Hospitals are a different story, people are never here willingly and these places, they suck.” He caught Miles’ hand and held it loosely before letting it go.

Miles spoke again, this time keeping his voice soft. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, getting a cast off.” Trent answered gesturing to the previously mentioned injury.

Looking at the affected area, the teen noted the faint tan of the lower half of the limb. “What happened, some slut finally get wise and give you what you deserved?”

“Which is what?” Trent inquired; when no answer came he shrugged.

His jacket slipped down obscuring his mostly healed wound. “A crash instead of a tackle.” He finally answered, looking down the hall.

Nodding Miles followed his line of questioning, curious about the injury; eager to change the subject. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not too much.”

“How bad was it?”

Touching his arm, DeMarco responded to every query, heedless of the fact that neither of them was really that interested in the subject.

“Just a fracture, I’m still on the painkillers.”

“Which ones?”

“The good ones.”

Looking up from floor, Miles was unable to prevent a chuckle from escaping his lips.

“What?” Trent demanded, surprised at the sudden noise.

“You're high.” Miles explained gesturing to Trent, “The only reason you're talking to me is because you’re high.”

Standing there in the white tiled hall, Trent found that he didn’t even have the energy to argue. “Whatever.”

Miles, as it seemed, felt the exact same way. “Don't worry, I'm almost drunk. The total lush I am, I grabbed some champagne before we left.”

“You're a loud drunk you know that?”

“Yep,” Miles nodded emphatically, “I mean there’s a good reason; my sister's having a baby.”

“So why worry?” Trent prodded.

“Grandma’s real tiny you know? Lisa takes the most after her; she’s like a twig with breasts. She was the good girl, stayed out of trouble never argued, cries like a baby. She’s certainly not strongest in the family, ‘cept at drinking, she can drink like a horse. That’s how she met Brian…”

Somehow Trent realized he was following the rant and found himself nodding as Miles spoke, letting him ramble as needed. The stream of consciousness however was headed in the last direction it needed to go.

“-What if something happens? I don’t know anything about babies…Except for Casey and she’s not normal. I can’t lose my sister. Then I’ll be stuck with Sydney. Why did Lisa have to get pregnant anyway? My sister’s having a baby. Oh God-”

The near hysterical diatribe was suddenly silenced as Trent DeMarco slapped him across the face. In the silence that followed, Miles pressed his fingertips to the superficial wound as he met the teen’s eyes for the first time that night. His own narrowed and he moved forward, thoroughly invading the personal space of his assailant. It was pure impulse what happened next, Lifting his hands to touch the teen, Miles leaned forward shutting his eyes as he pressed his lips to Trent’s own.

Sticky sweet and warm, his own lips were chapped but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter, nothing did. Everything else was unnecessary. The cacophonous sound of the hallway faded, in lieu of the soft brush of skin. Tightening his grip on the worn black jacket, he leaned closer, his formal shoes brushing heavier sneakers. For one fleeting instant, all the apprehension plaguing him vanished under the direct assault of lips. And then it all came crashing down again as Trent shoved him away. The force caught him by surprise and Miles slumped against the wall. He laughed bitterly, fingers pressed against his mouth to cover the sound.

Around the corner, another nurse appeared, she wasn’t harridan from before, but she shushed them all the same, insisting that hospital patients needed more than just peace to heal. She left them to their thoughts then, moving to the side of a young woman in a lavender dress. The pretty brunette gave them a fierce look and Miles turned away quickly. In his haste to escape he crashed into Trent; who stared at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

“That is it, I’m leaving.” Miles muttered, moving back from whence they came.

Even so, Trent wasn’t quite willing to let it drop. “What was that for?”

“I am not staying here,” was only answer he would get it seemed.

Stopping short, DeMarco stared after him, his cool indifference lost on the unexpected situation.  
Did Miles mean the kiss? Was he leaving because of noisy nurses, or was he just tired of the exchange?  
Trent was positive he didn’t care, but he jogged to catch up with the teen anyway.

Miles had stopped beside his youngest sibling, who was sitting on the floor; he patted her head softly before claiming a set of keys from her grubby hands. “I’m going home.”

“I have change for the bus.” She replied casually, holding her amassed wealth for inspection.

Miles only rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’ll be back later, stay out of trouble.”  
The lavender swathed child shrugged and turned away, crawling back under the vending machine for the second time that evening.

Trent watched him go, watched as the teen pretended to ignore him. Not that it mattered he had nothing to say, nothing that would change what had happened. Miles passed him by, slipping into the open doors of the elevator, giving a half hearted wave as the doors slid shut. That was it and it was over as quickly as it had begun. Not that the jock knew what to call it. It wasn’t everyday he got kissed by another male. Pushing the thoughts away, he jabbed the button for the elevator and settled back to wait.

***

The sky was a wash of dark purple and the air was crisp. It was a welcome change from the sterile waiting room.The damp clothing made the cool breeze chilly on his skin. Miles was tired and there was nothing that he wanted more than to go home. Scratch that, he wanted his keys to open the damn door. The teen scowled at the green car before him, and twisted his keys in the lock. However when he tugged the handle nothing happened. He tugged harder and it resisted every one of his attempts to open. The door was still locked. He took a breath and tried again. Nothing changed. He tried a third time with similar results. Whipping his keys from the car, he screamed and set about kicking the car in the tires, hard. It wouldn’t do anything about the door, but it slowly began to make him feel better.

All at once, hands settled about his shoulders pulling him back from the vehicle mid-kick. The action knocked them both off balance and onto the chilled pavement of the parking lot. Lifting his keys to either stab or slash his antagonist, Miles was rather surprised to find Trent DeMarco facing him once again. “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and stop trying to break into other people’s cars?”

Astounded by the jock’s harassment and his incredible lack of judgment Miles briefly resisted the urge to knock some sense into him. “For your information, this is my car.”

“Not unless you’re handicapped.”

Following Trent’s line of sight, the irritated teen suddenly realized that the car before him was not his own.

Bracing an arm on the vehicle Miles pushed himself up. Wandering back to the curb, he scanned the aisles in search of his car.

“If you can’t find, it how are you gonna drive it?”

“I’m incredibly talented.” Miles offered, pulling his soggy shirt from his skin.

Searching the street again, he finally found his car amongst the other thousands nestled in the parking lot. It was a stroke of luck that he had, but he was not about to over analyze intricacies of his particular kismet.

“You are not driving like that,” Trent insisted following across him the blacktop.

“Like what?” Miles asked curiously, weaving through the lot heading towards his car.

“Drunk,” the football player responded matching step with the teen.  
They stopped before the right car, Miles circling his ‘baby’ to reach the driver’s side door. His stalker followed close behind, pressing a hand to the door as the lanky blond flipped through his key ring.

“I'm not drunk, just... slightly buzzed.” Miles protested, swinging his keys as he moved.

“You always kiss guys when you're slightly buzzed?” was the prickly inquiry in return.

“If they hit on me, maybe.” He confessed with a shrug.

“I did not hit on you.”

“You did hit me.”

When it was clear that Miles had no intention of moving, Trent grabbed his arm. Staring at the offending hand in confusion and with rising irritation Lancaster struggled to pull his arm away from the taller teen. DeMarco on the other hand was having none of it, wrenching the keys from Miles’ grasp; Trent pushed passed him reaching for the car. Unlocking the door, he inspected the seat before shoving it back as far as it could possibly go and flipped the automatic locks. Satisfied with the results, he circled the vehicle dragging the owner of the car around to the passenger side door.

Pulling the door wide open, he gestured to Miles who stood dazed beside his car. He looked rather lost in the vastness of the dark lot. Tapping his fingers against the open door, Trent watched him.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, shivering slightly, his rumpled suit making him look small in the flickering glow of the streetlights nearby.

“What does it look like-” Trent demanded inexplicably angry. He fell silent and looked away before moving back around the car slipping into the driver’s seat. "C’mon, before you freeze.”

Rather subdued Miles slid into the car, not bothering with the belt. Trent cleared his throat noisily. Slowly, as if in a trance or a hallucination, he caught the fabric and hauled the strap across his waist. When he was sufficiently buckled, Trent started the car. “Where do you live?”

“About six blocks past your house.”

Turning from the wheel the jock stared in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“We rode the bus together in middle school, you always got off before I did.”

“You remember that?”

“Duh, you were just as mean when we were kids; all I had to do was stay out of your way until till Carnegie.”

“Ah.” Depressing the brake and pulling the gear shift into reverse, he eased the car out of the parking space.

“You're really a good driver.” Miles remarked because the silence of the vehicle was starting to get oppressive.

“With a car like mine you have to be.” Trent replied, gaze flicking from the darkened road to Miles

“You're still a jerk.”

“Even better.”

The drive was rather quiet despite the odd music rising from the radio. Trent didn't notice, he was too busy navigating the quiet streets in search of his companion’s home. In the dark the signs were useless, so he relied on landmarks. Passing his block and the protection it offered, he counted the streets slowing to a crawl as the numbers ticked by. The street in question was more like an alley, but he turned as he’d been instructed, navigating his way past back fences and an empty park. Never in a million years had he expected to end up like this; driving a drunken man's car, heading for a house that wasn't his. Miles had nothing to say on the matter, he’d fallen asleep almost as soon as they had hit the highway.

The row of houses was unalike, not a single one matching another. It gave the street an odd look, but a unique feel, even in the dark. The oddest, near the end of the street was encircled by a fence and a ring of trees, making it look just that much spookier as he pulled up to it. Somehow, the teen knew it was exactly what he’d been looking for.

Reaching out, Trent gently shook Miles. The soft snoring pervading the vehicle vanished as he slowly woke. Rubbing his eyes, he peered at Trent drowsily.

“This your house?” The driver asked jerking his finger at the dwelling.

Nodding drowsily, the lanky blond clambered out of the car offering a half hearted wave. Unfortunately he’d forgotten to unbuckle his belt and it refused to release him. Belatedly he caught the clasp and pressed it, losing himself. Suddenly free he stumbled from the car, collided with the fence which swung wide into the yard, and tumbled falling face down onto the lawn.

Peering out the passenger side door Trent stared at him, trying to figure out if he was alright or needed medical attention. Calling out to the prone youth got no response. Groaning, the teen decided to play the Good Samaritan a little longer. Twisting the keys in the ignition, Trent shut off the car and closed both doors as he headed into the curious yard of the Lancaster family. Lying on his side, Miles was breathing slowly, eyelids fluttering against his cheeks, strands of grass moving with each breath he took.

Dropping to one knee on the lawn Trent pressed a finger to his face. “One champagne?”

His eyes, almost cobalt in the dark were guileless in his barely sober state. “Maybe a little more than one,” he amended.

Shifting his weight, DeMarco put his size to use and pulled himself and his companion to their feet before starting up the walkway heading for the house. It was a trial, but not impossible, he, unlike Miles, was completely sober. Wobbling against his rescuer, Miles was more a hindrance than anything else; when they finally reached the porch and scaled the few steps he snagged the keys moving to open the door. As he floundered, Trent snagged the keys from his hand and opened the door himself.

“-and half the flask of whatever Syd had.” Miles continued leaning against the doorframe,

“Underage drinking?” Teased the jock pushing the door.

As it swung open Miles gave him a disgusted look. “As if you’re one to talk.”

The living room was cluttered, in a homey way rather than just being a mess. Past the couch and chairs, there was a short set of stairs that led down into what appeared to be a dining room. Across the wooden floor was yet another doorway that appeared to lead into the kitchen. Looking around the unfamiliar home, Trent spotted another staircase to the left of a closet, which to could only be the path to a second floor

Silently picking his way across the house, he followed its occupant, gazing about this new environment.

Miles staggered across the dining room into the kitchen and disappeared around the corner. Pipes rumbled and water kicked in. Leaning around the same corner Trent found Miles hunched over the sink in a bathroom, scrubbing at his face. Instead of staring, Trent tuned on his heel and was nearly at the door when he realized he still had a set of keys that most certainly weren’t his.

Grumbling he dumped the jangling metal on the table and started for the door again.  
Miles appeared attracted by the noise; he was missing his jacket and a towel was draped around his neck. He patted his face dry with a corner as he moved into the kitchen proper. “You still here?”

“Finally sober up?” Trent asked crossing his arms over his chest.

“Touché.” Miles muttered routing through the fridge. Leaning up, he deposited a bottle of Mountain Dew into Trent’s hands.

“What’s this?” Trent asked eying the bottle in his hands.

“You’re my guest. And it’s a thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” Trent answered, taking a perfunctory swig from the bottle.

“No, you were right.” Miles insisted “It’s better than dying horrifically.”

The thought of Miles slumped over a steering wheel, broken ribs protruding from his chest and blood pouring from his mouth hit Trent suddenly. The sight wasn’t as amusing as it would have been several hours ago. In fact, it was downright nauseating. The sweet carbonated liquid flowing over his tongue turned bitter. He set the bottle down, no longer thirsty. “Yeah well, I think I’d prefer your company to seeing you dead.”

“Flatterer.” Miles grinned, pushing damp strands of hair from his neck.

“Naturally.” Trent replied.

“I always thought you were kinda hot.” Miles admitted.

The silence that followed was less awkward than either of them could have imagined it would be, and rather easily dispelled.

“So?” Trent asked as his eyes roved the kitchen, looking for a suitable distraction. Anything that would divert the conversation.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Peering back at his host he smothered a dumb look. “Will you still ask if I say no?”

“Oh yeah.” Before him, Miles flashed a grin turning the green bottle in his hands.

“Fine.”

Setting his drink aside, the shorter blonde stepped forward, tapping his fingers over the counter top. He seemed to stall for a moment before suddenly blurting out the question. “Have you ever kissed a guy?”

“Besides you?” DeMarco groused, eyes hardening as they examined each other, “That’s personal.”

“Humor me.”

Trent looked away then, his fingers hooking the edge of his jeans as he decided to leave.

“So? What is it?” Miles pressed, heedless of the struggle taking place in his companions mind.

Trent had plenty of things he could say, but he suddenly didn't feel like being an ass anymore than he already was. “I’ve experimented, but that’s about it.”

“I see.” the answer seemed to satisfy Miles, for he moved closer, his shoulder brushing lightly against Trent’s.

Staring in abject surprise, the jock was speechless. Well almost. “What are you doing?”

“Did you like it?” Miles wondered.

“Why the hell do you wanna know?”

“Well, I’m wondering if I can get away with kissing you again.” He smirked hopefully at the prospect.

“You can’t.” Trent pulled back, arms crossed over his chest, the epitome of reluctant teen.

“Are you sure?” Miles asked sidling closer, brushing his fingers over the teen's shirt..

“Definitely.” Was the only answer he got before DeMarco shoved him away.

The cute disappointed pout on the Miles' face was almost enough to make him change his mind.

He laughed and Miles flipped him off earning yet another point in his little black book. For an instant, everything clicked and the smug young man stopped to think. Standing there in an unfamiliar kitchen, watching the crestfallen youth, judging the reactions and signals he’d been getting most of the night, Trent decided to take a risk.

Stepping forward, he grabbed Miles and shoved him back before the teen could react, even if he had realized what was up. The mouthy blond hit the counter and he could do little to compensate, the only thing keeping him from falling was the fierce grip his aggressor had on his arms. He opened his mouth to protest the rough treatment, but Trent beat him to the punch.

The kiss was quick and brutal. Trent’s lips smothering his own, bruising the pale flesh with total disregard for propriety. The timely interruption had him distracted and shaking, clinging to the larger form for balance. Sharp teeth entered the equation and he whimpered under the onslaught. The insistent pain of his spine providing counterpoint to the wickedly exquisite things Trent was doing to his mouth. Kisses flavored with Dew, the sickening sweet syrup clinging to his lips. Miles grinned against Trent's lips, his favorite food and activity all at once, things were looking up.

It was rather unexpected, but welcome, very welcome, Oh so welcome and he arched as firm hands moved to his hips, roughly mapping the contours of his frame. The counter was starting to hurt but he wasn't going to stop Trent. The rock of his body had taken a cadence all of their own, if he stopped now they were both going to regret it. Not that they wouldn't if they continued.

“How far did you go?” Miles moaned between lip locks, his tongue sliding over the swell of his lip

Trent pulled away to bite his jaw, his breath heavy as he replied “Far enough.”

Pulling Miles' hair to force him to bare his neck, Trent leaned close, kissing the damp skin, earning a throaty groan that finally snapped them back into reality.

Pushing away from each other the boys all but ran from the kitchen. Stumbling and shaking Miles lead; he caught Trent's hand and hauled him back into the front room. Slipping around the couch they ascended the stairs. Up the creaking flight they went and past a curtain shielded doorway. Turning a corner that dead ended in a door filled hall the pair stopped short and Miles jerked the closest one open. It swung wide revealed a small cluttered room whose dusty window overlooked the front yard and the street before the house.

The view was blocked by an age old pine and the scent pervaded the room. But neither was all that interested in plants or much of anything besides each other. Impatient and more importantly horny, Trent tugged free and forced Miles into a wall. He kissed him slowly drawing the action out, prolonging the contact. He savored the feel of the pliant mouth under his until the desperate need to breathe intervened.

Breaking the kiss, Miles leaned forward to nip at Trent's shoulder. A strange smell tickled his nose. Leaning closer he sniffed Trent's shirt. The aroma was crisp and familiar. Grass he realized belatedly, the teen smelled of grass and moist earth. Burying his face into the fabric, he inhaled, savoring the aroma as Trent’s hands slipped down to catch his waist. Hands pinning him so he could do little more than buck against the jock.

Pulling back Trent caught his tie and jerked it, drawing Miles forward with no gentleness. Miles didn't care, moving quickly to undo his shirt while Trent loosened the tie. Trent finished first tossing the stained scrap away, and slipping his fingers under Miles' pale dress shirt.

The lanky male shuddered, his hands rising from his paramour's shoulders as the fabric slipped up off his body, previously unbuttoned flopped haphazardly over a bookcase as its owner regained his bearings. Peeling himself from Trent's grasp, he found himself fluttering his lashes at the panting teen.

Taking a deep breath, Trent looked away and ran a firm hand down his bared torso, lips pursing ever so slightly as he hissed an order. “Bed.”

Another small flight of stairs curved around the edge of the room and led up; it was surrounded by bookshelves, bearing a tiny window overlooking the side door that turned into a small attic space, which apparently doubled as a bedroom.

Making their way towards the bed, they stumbled over something but remained on their feet, but just barely. Miles looked at Trent who positively leered and shoved him forward.

Tumbling back on his bed, Miles looked up at Trent. Smothering a laugh he grinned shamelessly. “Fuck me.”

Unimpressed, the jock arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“What, am I, a girl?” Miles demanded.

“You have the hips for it.” Trent replied bracketing said hips with his hands.

The assertion earned a solid shove and an irritated glare, but Trent's grip on Miles made the shove virtually ineffective. Trent was ridiculously smug as he leaned down to kiss Miles again.

Miles twisted in the circle of Trent's arms, but the action did more to counter his struggle than aid it. He’d ground his cock, restricted as it was in slacks against Trent's. It was mind numbingly good and Trent did it again to catch the sound of Miles groan. However the noise was overshadowed by the croaking rising from the vicinity of the dresser.

“What?” Trent pulled back just a fraction to ask.

“That's just Arod, he's keening.”

At the look of disbelief, Miles pointed to the dresser and the aquarium in the middle of it.  
Just beyond a pane of glass was an ugly amphibian, bellowing on a log. It was completely unexpected, but still it was happening. The more they delayed it, the more real the moment seemed. Brushing his bangs back from his face, Miles gave a shrug. “He's looking for a mate.”

“So am I.”

This time Miles really did laugh as he leaned up to kiss his former tormentor.

“I can’t believe you said that with a serious face.”

This time the kiss didn't connect, Trent pressed him back down upon the sheets, blunt fingers digging into his shoulders. Trent met his eyes and squared his jaw, sounding almost determined as he addressed the teen.

“I'm in control.”

“Why, do you have prior experience?”

“Shut up and make your mouth useful.”

Chuckling softly Miles drew Trent down the bed and scooted down the mattress. The blankets bunched as he moved. He leaned forward slowly stroking down Trent's thighs. Still grinning he bent to press a kiss to the bare hip. He trailed kisses lower, leaving a bright purple marks in his wake. He had no idea if the chance would ever present itself again, but he decided he'd enjoy it.

Popping the button on the pair of jeans, Miles tugged at the denim peeling the fabric down over strong legs smirking at the jock's choice in underwear. Snapping the white waistband earned him a growl and a cuff to the back of his head. Wincing slightly, he ignored the strike and kept to his task, removing the cotton underwear before finally sliding his fingers back up Trent’s legs to cup the jock's cock.

Gently, he kneaded the pliant member nearly erect, he kept his touches short and sweet, heedless of the squirming man before him. Humming, he finally leaned forward to take the penis into his mouth. Warm flesh twitched under his tongue and he licked again lingering under the sensitive flesh of the spongy head. The skin was salty with the faint scent of soap, not bad, Miles thought drawing the cock deeper. Trent caught the top of his head, fingers digging into his scalp.

“Fuck,” He groaned, rocking his hips to meet the moist lips.

Miles slid his fingers down to cup a pair of woefully neglected balls and was rewarded with a shudder. Trent could do nothing to suppress his reactions. None of the girls he'd been with had been that eager to get down and dirty, most acted like it was a chore. He hated the fact that they just lay back expected him to do all the work. It was thrilling to have someone who was an eager participant. And Miles was, well, eager get down to business. He realized belatedly that the geek was a natural because he was a guy. He knew what felt good and exactly when and where to use it. It was nice not to be struck trailing after a bitchy little cock-tease, Mikaela notwithstanding.

As if to prove his point, the scrawny blond wrapped a hand loosely around the base of his shaft and tugged. A pleased hum rose from the jock and he shifted on the unfamiliar mattress, eyes following the calloused fingertips mapping the path of his flesh. And as suddenly as he started, Miles stopped and moved away, the bed shifting at the loss.

Trent rose, glaring at his companion as he reconsidered his previous assumption, propriety be damned he had half a mind to drag the geek back and make him finish what he'd started. Before Trent could even attempt to coerce the man back into bed, even as weird as it sounded in his head, Miles leaned over him and shoved a hand under the mattress. Their eyes met briefly, and they quickly looked away obviously preferring physical contact to emotional. Above their mingled breath, crickets were heard chirping, singing to the night or each other.

Miles pulled back from fumbling under the mattress and tossed Trent a condom. The curious little rainbows decorating the edge made him smother an almost inappropriate laugh. Peeling the foil wrapper open, he tugged the rubber out and brought it to his flesh. He'd done it hundred of times before, and this time was no different. Well almost no different. He'd never gone this far with another male, but now was not the time to be thinking about other sexual encounters. Finally finished with his own preparations, he turned to the other occupant of the bed.

Trent reached for him but instead of flesh he encountered plastic. The bottle of lube was mostly full, and brought interesting questions to mind, but Miles was staring at him through lowered lashes. Trent winked, and rolled them over suddenly looming over the teen casually easing his legs open.

The bottle top clicked open and the scent of chocolate assailed his nose. He eyed the blond who he was leaning over and received a shrug in reply. Licking his lips in trepidation, Trent poured lubricant onto his hand. Miles peered up from his spot against the stark white pillows.

“More.” he insisted to the jock, indicating the meager dollop nestled in his hand.

“It’s enough.” Trent insisted, nudging his thighs further apart.

“More.” Miles refused the implicit instruction and gestured to the bottle. “When you’re in this position, you can dictate how much we use or not.”

“Somehow I doubt I’ll find myself in your situation.” Trent answered, adding more cream to his palm.

With flesh well lubed, Trent slid his slick fingers down the small pocket of skin left uncovered by his pants. Cool digits moving across his skin just below his belly button made Miles jump. Genuinely smiling at the reaction the jock snaked his left hand down the teen's trousers. Resisting the urge to laugh at the incredulous expression his companion gave him, Trent DeMarco forged ahead one hand diving down the cleft of his ass, searching for an entrance.

He found the pucker without trouble and smeared lubrication over the entrance. Swirling the slick gel around the sensitive flesh made Miles buck beneath him. Slipping a digit through the ring of muscle, he pushed, probing gently. A sudden hitch of breath alerted him to the discomfort he caused, but he hadn't been asked to stop so he ignored it.

With his long fingers exploring Miles, he tossed the rumpled slacks away and flipped the prone male over. The springs of the old bed creaked, but it was last thing on Trent's mind as he sought the sensitive spot within the wiggling blond.

Shifting position, he trailed his hand over the lightly tanned shoulders and sloping ridge of a spine. As he descended, he found a silvery pattern of scars etched upon the flesh. Miles rocked suddenly as the pad of a finger brushed something inside, he bit back a hiss as Trent ran his free hand over his back and called his attention.

“What are those from?”

“Jellyfish.” Miles replied distractedly his voice a little strained, groping at the pillow under his head.

“Ouch.” A soft intake of breath accompanied the whispered exclamation.

“Hell yeah,” Miles babbled in reply. “Mom swore never let me go surfing again.”

Warm lips graced his throat and he jerked again as the single finger flexed within him. Miles shut his eyes, trying block out the overwhelming sensory experience. He couldn't focus everything around him was Trent. From the smell of their combined arousal, and the feel of solid heat over him, it was too much.

He wanted to tell Trent to stop, that he’d made a mistake, but just then Trent twisted his digit upward and Miles nerves sang out, his legs tensing. He manhandled his pillow again, ignoring the laughter the action earned.

“You act like you’ve never done this before.”

Chewing on his lip, Miles managed to stutter a reply. “I wasn’t on t-ngh receiving end.”

“Really?” Trent sounded impressed and added another finger.

Miles swore at him and buried his face into the pillow. The muffled remarks about lineage were ignored in favor of thorough preparation and whispered slights. When the much abused teen fell silent and looked up to meet his tormentor's gaze, wispy hair plastered to his forehead and his lips red and swollen, DeMarco was satisfied.

Mouthing the faint tracks along Miles' flesh, he drew his fingers out slowly. Miles groaned more from pleasure than pain, and peered over his shoulder, his breath was heavy and his body tense. It wasn't very reassuring.

“Can you handle this?” Trent asked.

Miles' response was slightly petulant. “Can you?”

Witty retort given, Miles paused to contemplate the implications of his position. Trent pulled away, catching his hips and rolling him over. Pinned to the mattress, he felt Trent's cock resting on his leg, warm on his flesh.

That was when the reality of their positions dawned on him. Was this really what he wanted? He wasn't sure, wasn't coherent, wasn't...

He quickly decided it was not a good idea. He was probably too drunk to continue. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking or even what Trent was thinking, but he was pretty sure someone would regret it. He wanted to say as much, but Trent wasn't in the mood for talking. He barely had enough room to breath let alone talk. He groaned around the lips working his own open.

“Ready?” Trent inquired kneeling above him.

Miles answered quickly and unabashedly. “Nope.”

The fingers surreptitiously inching across his leg didn't stop, nor did they slow their progress. That didn't bode well, Miles thought.

“Well, no backing out.” Trent replied nonchalantly, “You're committed now.”

“You should be committed.” Miles growled, but Trent shushed him with a kiss.

“Count to ten.” he suggested pulling back, looking like a proverbial cat who'd pinned his canary to the wall. It didn't provoke a sense of comfort but it was rather attractive.

“What?”

“Do it.” Trent ordered.

Miles drew in a shaky breath before muttering the first numeral, digit spilling from his pink lips as he watched DeMarco close the distance between their nether regions. Two came easier, followed by three and he sucked in a breath on four, shutting eyes because he couldn’t bring himself to watch anymore. Five came and warm air tickled his ear, he almost paused, but Trent was there whispering to him as flesh encountered his.

“Keep going. You're doing fine.”

The encouragement wasn't what he wanted or need, but he continued anyway, but only so the moron above him would just shut up. He got to six before Trent pushed inside, lips pressed to crown as he moved. The head just barely inside when Miles shuddered from the intrusion. Swearing into Trent's shoulder, he was tempted to bite him as his body finally acclimatized.

“Jerk.” he gritted out, glaring through sweaty bangs.

“Thanks.” Trent replied before pulling back, shifting his point of attack and pushing again.

Miles moaned, the vocalization was a needy sound that was loud against his shoulder. The vulnerable noise only made Trent want to fuck him harder. He jerked his hips, the motion making his partner's breath stutter. The tight warmth was heavenly, even if the hissed expletives from Miles weren't.

“Fuck, fu-” He was finally silenced as Trent shifted hard, holding him to the bed, leaving him aching and eager for more.

“Again!” he ordered, breathlessly.

“What, no please?” Trent grunted, slick fingers sliding lower on Miles' hips.

“Fuck!” he rasped in reply, lips parted in a pleasured moan.

With a smirk, Trent decided that was good enough. Pulling back ever so slightly he dragged the quivering hips along with him, driving himself deep into the willing body.

He began thrusting in earnest, deep powerful strokes with the kind of endurance possessed only by athletes and law-enforcement. Miles gripped the mattress, his swollen penis flopping against his belly. He was left gasping as Trent brushed that little something inside. Shifting his body, he tried to make the electrifying connection last. They moved together, their combined momentum rocked the bed causing the headboard to slam against the wall. Something fell off a shelf, but Miles wasn't really concerned. He was too busy trying to repay each frenzied thrust with one of his own.

Trent was buried in him when Miles came, splattering their tangled hips in white. Trent wasn't far behind.

The euphoric high faded, leaving the pair silent save for the combined gasps for air and the throaty bellows of a toad. Trent could hear Miles' heart pounding frantically before it slowed to a more sedate rhythm. He pulled out slowly, taking care not to hurt Miles as they parted. The geek smiled at him before stretching languidly.

Miles was sore, but in the best possible way. Sore and sticky, he rolled over to the side of the bed and after a minute of groping retrieved a towel. Turning to his partner he waved the cloth and started to wipe them clean. Trent flinched when first touched with the fabric. His surprise which earned a chuckle from Miles. He looked at Miles and grumbled "Get on with it."  
Miles did, he was careful and gentle as he cleaned the evidence from their bodies.

Miles was just starting to wipe at his own belly, when Trent poked him in the neck, fingertips smoothing over the multiple hickeys mottling the skin. Miles squirmed and batted him away.

The defense was so pitiful; Trent couldn’t help but give him a halfhearted shove. Miles flopped back on the bed and sighed. He looked a hell of a lot less tense than he'd been before.

“Well that wasn't awful.” Trent muttered.

“Not awful at all.” Miles replied, patting his leg.

Trent sneaked a glance at him. The teen was stretched out like a cat, face nestled into his pillow. Rising Trent shifted, stretching a few muscles before rising.

“What’s your hurry?” Miles asked turning in his direction drowsily.

“Did you think I was gonna stay?” Trent asked.

Miles rolled over, to look at him. He almost seemed to mull over the idea, that or the generous curve of Trent's ass, his expression wasn't clear in the light. Trent shook his head before sorting through the tangles of clothing.

Before Trent could reach his pants, Miles tugged him back down to the bed. There was some resistance but Miles did not relent.

“You're probably as tired as I am.” Miles said, using one hand to push Trent down and dragging a quilt up from where it lay on the floor with the other.

“No, I'm not.” Trent insisted as Miles continued pulling up the bedding.

"Gotta be I'm fucked out." Miles said tossing the blanket over them.

"I actually train for endurance." Trent grumbled shifting under the cover.

"It shows." Miles winked tiredly but ignored Trent's complaints. “You can leave in the morning, no one will even notice.” he offered smothering a yawn with the back of his hand.

Looking at Miles' exhausted face took the fight out him. Trent quietly conceded and settled down. They shuffled awkwardly trying to share the bed and blankets while desperately not cuddling. Miles was asleep in less than an hour, head pillowed on his companion's arm. Trent spent the rest of the night listening to the damn toad and shoving Miles' drooling face off his arm.


End file.
